Awkward Kisses and Bittersweet Stolen Moments
by nothing-fancy
Summary: Harry and Ginny get together and it is happily ever after? What actually happened behind Ginny's back? H/Hr
1. Where It All Began

**A/N:** Here is a little story that has been inspired by a book I read the other day. It won't be updated as often as _The Real Potter _as I am trying to take a different approach to this fanfiction – the chapters will be longer, the descriptions will be better and the story will hopefully appeal to more people. Take a little look and post me a review telling me whether I should continue or not, please? A little bit, wait, a lotta bit of angst. Gotta love that angst.

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Awkward Kisses and Bittersweet Stolen Moments**

_Chapter One – Where It All Began_

It was a first for Hermione Granger. Definately out of the ordinary and most certainly the first and last time it would happen. For once, she was taking an interest in her appearance.

Compact mirrors, bottles of foundation and eyeliner pencils lay scattered across what would usually be the dark oak counter top of her desk. When buying her flat in Diagon Alley, it was her bedroom that sealed the deal. In fact, it was the large floor to ceiling window that covered the back of her first floor. The tall pane of glass, which had a ornate, mahogany stained edging surrounding it, looked out into the square of greenery that just brought that little bit of normality to the area.

In the four years since the Final Battle, the Wizarding World had changed dramatically. Everything had become much more industrialised and cramped as everyone moved from the countryside to the central areas in hope of, well, finding love. Before Voldemort had been vanquished, people lived in the outer areas in a hope that they wouldn't be found. After, people had started moving in. People started to be brave and just thank Merlin for being alive. People started meeting each other and people started to fall in love.

Wizards flocked to the centre and soon those precious moments became less and less frequent and every time was savoured before been swallowed up into memory. The greenery brought peace to the hustle and bustle of the city. It was a sanctum, providing that little bit of sanity to her busy life. It was best when it rained.

Hermione inhaled at the memory, the scent of the dewy grass filling her airways. She'd always loved the rain.

* * *

It had been a close, summer evening. You could feel the humidity rising in the air leaving the dry air to choke on. Hermione had resided to reading in her flat, the binding resting on the inside of her thigh. She chewed instinctively on her bottom, chapped lip and twiddled a front strand of her hair around the index finger of her left hand as she concentrated on the words flowing from the page.

CRACK!

"Merlin!" Hermione exclaimed, "What in the world was that?"

SMASH!

She jolted up from her curled position, turned in the direction of the commotion and saw a tall, raven haired man standing at her doorway holding the remains of a vase in his hands, "Shit."

Hermione stood up, her bare feet thumping against the wood of the floor, "Harry?" she said, "What are you doing here at," she stopped to consult the clock on the wall, "half twelve at night?"

He shuffled on his feet, and sheepishly clasped a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing the nonexistent tension from it, "I wanted to see you?" he answered, hoping that it was the right answer.

Her lips curved into a smile, "And you just thought you'd come in and smash my vase as well? Well, it is nice to see you too."

He choked a smile, looking down at the pieces in his hands, "I suppose you'll want these."

He outstretched his arms, his cupped hands grasping all the shards of the vase. She smiled and took her wand from the pocket of her soft pink dressing gown before pointing it at the remains. She paused for thought.

"What?" Harry asked, breaking the silence between them.

"I'm thinking Harry," she replied, taping the end of the wand against her chin.

Smirking, Harry spoke, "That's a first."

A small scowl wrinkled her forehead as she momentarily stopped tapping, "Got it," she mumbled to herself.

She pointed the wand at the shards and spoke, "_Reparo._"

The pieces of the blue, flowered crockery clicked together like a jigsaw mid-air as her hand fluttered from the incantation. And that's when she heard it.

It was soft and almost recognisable at first but nevertheless she heard it. She dropped her hand, and hastily shoved her wand into her pocket. She stopped and heard it again. It was enough to confirm it and jumped up and down with excitement.

Harry looked at her, feeling like he was missing something, "What is it?"

She gasped and looked at him, "It's raining."

His eyebrows knitted together in thought, "And?"

"And?" she imitated, "And? What do you mean 'and?' – it's raining!"

She ran over to the door and pulled on her wellington boots over the soft flannel of her pyjama bottoms. Harry followed her to the door, "I still don't understand you Hermione."

She crouched down to make sure all the trouser was tucked into the boot, and looked up at him as soon as he had spoken. She stood up and looked him square in the face, an unfamiliar and mischievous twinkle in her eye, "I'll show you."

She took hold of his hand, clasping his fingers firmly around hers before she flung open the front door. She yanked at his hand which caused him to stumble forward closer to her. She threw her head back, and laughed at his clumsiness, "Come on! We'll miss it!"

She ran down the stairs to the ground floor of her apartment block and out into the street, losing hold of Harry's hand as she reached the front door. There she just stood in the rain. The water soaked through her clothes and yet she just stood there smiling, no wait, grinning at the sight. She looked up at the sky and opened her mouth to scream with happiness.

She jumped up and down on the pavement, splashing the fresh rainwater up onto her legs. Her green wellies were almost recognisable in the darkness of the night but yet she stared down at the glistening coat that the rain had created against the rubber.

Looking up at Harry, her fringe plastered against her forehead, she grinned, "What are you waiting for?"

Excitement itched Harry to run outside. He could feel the pulse compelling him to run out into the pouring rain and scream. And so he did. He ran out into the rain and within seconds he was soaked to the skin, his clothes resembling those of Hermione's.

He seized her hand and pulled her along, "Come on! Now you've got me out here, let me have my fun."

He cheekily raised his eyebrows at her and cocked his head to the left in the direction of the vast green space that Hermione's flat looked out onto. He pulled her onto the grass but lost his footing and went crashing to the ground, pulling her with him. The mud stained the back of his black jacket but he didn't care.

She turned her head so she was facing Harry as she lay on the ground, "Yeah, this seems fun."

He cackled, his voice laced with wickedness as he spread his arms and legs out in a starfish fashion, "Ever heard of snow angles?" he shouted up the sky above the pitter patter on the rain against the tarmac near them.

"Oh no," she replied, "You're not going to... oh, Merlin you are. Harry..." she trailed off.

He started sliding his legs and arms in the mud beneath him keeping his eyes fixed on hers, "Your turn."

She sat up, "No way am I doing that Harry. I like the rain, not getting muddy in the rain!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said before he pulled her to the ground again.

She toppled on top of him, their faces inches apart. Seconds passed, mere seconds, before Harry crushed his lips to hers. She closed her eyes and fell into the kiss, wrapping her sodden arms around his torso. He hungrily pushed her over so he was on top. He brought his lips back and studied her beautiful face beneath him before silencing her before she could say something rational and stop all this happening.

She moaned at the sweetness that he tasted of and at the soft kisses that he proceeded to run down her neck. She curled her arms around his and pushed him up so that they sat up and whispered softly, "I've never done this before."

He broke and looked at her face, and pushed the fringe from her face, "Don't worry, neither have I."

She smiled and he ran a finger over her bottom lip before uttering, "You are so goddamn beautiful."

She blushed and looked down awkwardly at the floor, "Um... thanks I suppose."

He gazed up at her face and studied her confused features, "Just take the compliment Hermione."

Laughing at the urgency of the kisses that he had trailed up to the side of her mouth and what he just said, "I am."

She pushed her hands across his chest and across the see through fabric of his white shirt. Her hands shaking, she undid the buttons to expose his torso to the rain. He watched her fumbling hands, "Let me get that for you."

He helped her undo the rest of his buttons and she spoke as he worked, "I never thought it would be like this."

After undoing his last button he looked up and stroked her cheek, "Neither did I, but I'm glad it is."

He started the pull her pyjamas from above her head and she spoke, "Are you not nervous or..."

"Shhh," he silenced her, "You talk too much."

Awkward kisses and awkward laughs added to the bittersweet moment that they were sharing. Neither of them even stopped to think whether it was right or wrong. Neither of them questioned each other's actions. In that respect they were learning from each other. Never pausing to contemplate the precautions they should take, never breaking to understand the implications that had turned from their platonic friendship. They just presumed that it would last forever.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she looked out of her window – sitting on the stool that accompanied the desk. She shifted uneasily on the deep red velvet cushion underneath her and she looked from the sight out of the window. She smiled, a plain and yet bittersweet tint to her happiness.

A tall, blonde man walked on the grass, a white brimmed hat covering his head from the blazing sun. In his hand sat another person's hand, her skin a milkier complexion than his. He gave her hand a squeeze and looked down lovingly at her. Sensing his touch, she tilted her up to his shyly and smiled.

"Awkward signs of a first date," Hermione muttered to herself, her breath no more than a whisper.

She snapped out of her trance, and switched her vision to the beige powder in front of her. She took the brush and slowly swirled it around the contents of the pot. She glanced up at the mirror that she had conjured to float in front of her and delicately brought the brush up to her right cheek. She stared into the eyes of the image and absentmindedly brushed the powder on her face. The brushing became slower and slower and eventually she stopped and the brush fell through her fingertips onto the wood.

She didn't even flinch or even remotely recognise the sound that it had made; she was too busy wrapped up in the silence and solitude that her life had become. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she fought them back with words of encouragement from her conscience.

_Don't give in to them Hermione_, it spoke, _we know how much it hurts. _

She closed her eyes slowly and inhaled deeply before looking at herself in the mirror, "What a mess," she spoke to her image, "What a mess I have got myself into."

She ran a hand up her face and over the top of her ponytailed hair. She rested her hand on her forehead and pushed her emotions into the grip. She looked down at her knees and whimpered helplessly.

"No," she said, pushing herself on, "It'll happen. Just you wait and see."

The wounds cut deeper and the lies got thicker. The more she told herself everything was gonna turn out fine, the more and more she started to believe it, sheltering herself from him.

_Him._ The words her brain spat – couldn't even mention his name without her heart panging and the dry lump rising up her throat. She coughed and cleared her throat but the lump didn't want to go.

So she just sat there, speechless and helpless brushing her face with stuff she didn't even know the name of. She scoffed, "I don't know why I even bother sometimes."

She did. She knew fine well what everything was for. _Him. _

She violently pulled the wand from the mascara tube which caused her to stab herself in the eye, "Oh for Merlin's sake."

That's what did it. That's what broke the barrier. The end of her nose turned a shade of pink and her eyes glazed over. She stared at the broken heart in the mirror, never moving her eyes. Not blinking, blinking would push the tears further and further out of her sheltered soul. She just stared completely apathetic and her mind devoid of emotion.

Her glazed-over eyes let a single tear drop down her cheek, not even moving to wipe it away. It just tumbled down her face and clung to the bottom of her chin. She sniffed and broke from the stare, wiping the tear from her chin and wiping the path it had took down her face.

"Right," she said to herself, "Right, right, right, right, right."

She took the mascara to her eyelashes and applied it, this time taking extra care not to poke it in her eye. She started talking to herself again, "It's not like anything was ever going to become of it. He was just forgetting all the hatred he had seen. All the war, all the violence. That's all it was," she scoffed at her realisation and put down the mascara on the desktop, "Just sex."

She felt herself wanting to sit and sob, "Just sex."

She stood up from her chair and took the robe that she had wore over her underwear when she had been putting her makeup. She looked in the full length mirror and took off her robe. She just stood there and looked at the small bruise that had appeared over her collarbone. She rubbed it gently with her fingertips and sighed. Last week was all it took. They couldn't even be in the same room as each other without having to push back the sexual tension that hung in the air between them. Everywhere and anywhere. Adventurous and risky sex.

She turned to her wardrobe and put on a knee length black dress and a pair of black heels. Simple, elegant and not too revealing. She didn't want him to want her, especially at the announcement of his engagement.

She choked. His engagement and all this sneaking around had to stop. She never thought that she would be involved in an affair, never mind the one that is pulling the husband-to-be away from his future wife and all their normality and happiness.

She felt dirty and ashamed. She never wanted anyone to be hurt. In fact, she would rather she was the one hurting, but she couldn't bring herself to stopping it all.

She rushed around her room collecting her prize belongings and putting them in a simple, black clutch bag that matched the silver necklace that hung around her neck and the silver charm bracelet to match.

Walking out of her bedroom and into the living area, she took the keys from the table beside the door, next to the vase. She touched the vase and shuddered with pleasure at the thought of what happened last time.

"This night is going to be insatiable as far as restraining will go," she said, "Oh Merlin."

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you liked it. I don't know so much about it yet, but I have a feeling it's going to go somewhere good!


	2. Sideways Glances

**A/N:** Very sorry about the late update. A Levels are taking over my life. Mais, voila!

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Awkward Kisses and Bittersweet Stolen Moments**

**Chapter Two – Sideways Glances**

It was all so typical, nothing particularly special about any of it. Ginny had never been one for taking risks and daring to be that little bit different. So sticking to what she knew, having no input from Harry whatsoever, she chose an average, just crossing the right side of "nice", Italian restaurant in Orthogon Alley.

Everyone seemed to be acquainted with a glass of ginger wine in their hand and a genuine smile of affection for the newly engaged couple and it almost seemed like a smile of relief. Everyone in the Wizarding World knew that it would happen and their inevitable marriage was more a question of when than if.

One long table ran down the centre of the high ceilinged building and just like Hogwarts, the ceiling had been enchanted into a clear night sky – stars twinkling like the eyes of Dumbledore once did – and it matched the perfectness of the evening outside. Hermione snorted at the thought, there was no way that someone could have that much luck. But it was it was ignored by the guests who were crammed around the thick mahogany table happily tucking into the delicious food that the chef had levitated from the kitchen.

A familiar pair of large, doe-brown eyes closed as her twelfth drink of the night burned numbly down her throat in one gulp. She swallowed the liquid that had slowly lost its effect and its taste during the course of the evening and opened her eyes – locking her gaze on the "happy couple."

She snorted once more at the sight of the redhead trying to tuck a lock of the raven-haired man's hair behind his ear as she caught the attention of one of her work colleagues trying to strike a conversation up with her. It was quickly resisted by one of his strong hands pushing hers' away and Hermione sniggered at the response. She knew that she was doing it to dangle her great "Harry Potter" in front of everyone – to ensure her success had been duly noted.

"Anyone would know that he hates people touching his hair," she mumbled absentmindedly as she ran her finger round the rim of once again empty wineglass.

"Excuse me?" a voice said from the right of her, "were you talking to me?"

Hermione glanced up from her fixation to be greeted by a plump lady who had ginger hair sprouting out in every direction possible from her head. She looked peculiar, but it was fairly obvious who she was a relative of – not just because of the ginger hair, but because of Harry's want and need to only invited those that actually meant something to him. Hermione knew that it was almost certain that Harry had not met half the people in the room tonight, and that he was becoming increasingly and increasingly agitated by Ginny's want to make a big facade of the whole thing. He had always wanted a small wedding with nothing but his wife, two witnesses and his love to keep him company.

Hermione looked blank at the woman as her mind once again drifted off into the comfort of its limitations before her face lazily broke into a sarcastic smile, "No, no," she spoke, her voice hoarse, "No. Just talking to myself again."

She patted the woman's hand next to her to have the affection not returned. The woman slowly removed Hermione's small hand from her grip and swiftly replaced it with her dining fork from the crystal white table cloth that covered the beautiful, ornate table. _Must have been Ginny's ideas again, _Hermione thought, _there's no way that Harry would cover the naturally intended beauty of the wood. _

The woman cleared her throat, "Very well then."

Hermione ignore the comment and found her eyes being met by two very piercing green ones from across the table. She gulped and swallowed her heart that had promptly swelled in her chest and the dry lump that stuck in her throat every time she saw him. But nevertheless she proceeded to hold the gaze. The icy exterior she'd shielded herself with all night, started to thaw and her heart raced against the normal beat that keeps perfect time.

Her heart felt unprepared for this and suddenly she felt herself receding back into her chair feeling very small indeed. She knew he had been watching her all night.

False hope crumbled around her and her now shaking hands fumbled with the crisply folded gold napkin on the table. Studying her own hands, calloused from writing, she avoided him in any other cost. She pretended to completely interested in the table cloth as she ran her fingers lightly over the faint embroidery pattern. After a few seconds, she took a long intake of breath and looked up to find his eyes still locked upon hers.

Feeling very uncomfortable, she shifted in her chair and broke his gaze again and looked down at the plate of untouched cold pasta and started to push the congealed mess around her plate. She really didn't feel like eating. She twirled a piece of spaghetti around her fork and pulled up it up to her mouth. She hastily shoved it in and gagged at the taste. Not having any appetite at all wasn't the best time in the world to be invited to a seven course dinner ignoring the fact that it was an engagement.

She reached for her empty glass to find a small, folded piece of parchment levitating inside. She looked over the table to find Harry's hand poised in level with the paper and his focus on it. She reached inside the glass and saw Harry's hand, in her peripherals, as it dropped to the table.

She carefully unfolded the piece of parchment to reveal an obvious hastily written note.

"Follow me," she recited under her breath from the scribble.

She looked up at him as he was draining the contents of his wine glass, staring intently at her, before he stood up. He brushed the napkin from his lap and bended down to excuse himself in whisper from the table. Turning on his heel, he made his way to the door that lead to the foyer of the restaurant, but not before looking over at Hermione to ensure she was following.

She found herself engrossed in his moment, and the plea in his eye couldn't be ignored. She unceremoniously pulled herself from her slouched sitting position and cleared her throat, "Yeah..."

She stopped herself. There was little to no point in her excusing herself – no one was really paying attention to her anyway.

* * *

She stepped out the front door of the restaurant and found Harry leaning with his back against the cold, hard stone of the brick. He sighed and his breath clashed harshly against the cold of the air.

She stood there, drinking the admiration for his graceful stature. She'd fallen so fast and hard, it was unbelievable.

Wrapping the sides of her cardigan around her middle, she spoke softly, "Hey."

His head turned against the wall to face her, and stared frostily at her for what seemed hours, but in reality was seconds. He sniggered at himself, and looked down at the black ground below them before tilting his head towards hers; peeling his back from the wall.

"Hey," he replied with a smile.

She smiled goofily, but remember her place and where they were, "So... what did you want me for?"

He edged closer to her and took a hold of both her hands in his. Rough, calloused fingers ran over her soft palms. She glanced down at their hands. _This feels so right, we just "fit" together_, she thought.

Looking up, her eyes caught with his and she found herself glued to the floor at his face broke into a wide smile.

He moved his head so his lips were millimetres away from hers. She could taste the ginger wine on his breath as he own breath hitched in her throat.

"This," he said as he placed his lips so they just grazed over hers ever so slightly and her eyes remained shut as he rested his forehead against hers.

_This isn't it. It's so wrong that it's right. I can't do this,_ her mind screamed at her.

"I..." she opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't.

She opened her eyes and curled her fists into balls, pushing them against his chest, "I... I can't do this Harry."

She paused slightly, but then lightly pushed him away from her before turning to the door.

He stood where she had left him, his head hung, "Hermione..." he whispered.

Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned to face him. Her eyes were strong and clear, "I'm sorry," she whispered. Her voice cracked, "I'm doing this for the best Harry."

* * *

And she was back at the table again, drowning her thoughts and restraining herself. The drunker she got, the better she'd feel and the longer she's forget about it. _Him. _

She gazed hazily at her distorted reflection in the empty glass to her left. She didn't recognise herself anymore. Who was this person she'd become?

Red stained lips. Casually coiffed hair. Manicured nails. All of this. All of this she'd become, and for what? Seeking acceptance from society, from friends, and what is much more: seeking that little bit more of attention from Harry.

A woman cleared her throat from across the table and placed her wand to her throat, "Sonorus."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the red headed woman who was standing up next to Harry, "Hello everyone."

Everyone nodded and she started to speak again, "Well, firstly I'd like to thank everyone for coming tonight. You all look fantastic and I hope you are looking forward to the wedding as much as me and Harry are," she fumbled for his hand and took a hold, gaining a sympathetic sigh from everyone, "Haa. Thanks. But now onto more important measures.

"We've all been very fortunate to survive the war, and I would like to just take this opportunity to recognise what an achievement we have all created and how much work we have all put in to make today what it is..."

Hermione snorted at her remark.

Ginny stopped talking and looked at Hermione, "Excuse me Hermione, do you have something you would like to say?"

Hermione looked up, _yeah you bullshitting little bitch, _"No. I just got something stuck in my throat. Do go on, I'm enjoying this ever so much," she added sarcastically.

"Harumph," Ginny remarked, "Well, as I was saying. We've all done so much, but we wouldn't be hear without MY," she shared a look with her friends, "husband-to-be Harry!"

The crowd clapped, "And..." Ginny started, trying to calm them down, "And! Well, and I would like to say, Harry, that I love you very much and I hope that we live our lives happily for the rest of our time together."

This earned another round of applause from the audience and Ron exclaimed, "Give him a kiss love!"

She looked down at Harry who was looking down at the table cloth and squeezed his hand. He looked up at Ginny but not before catching Hermione's gaze on him.

_Don't. _

He stood up with Ginny and smiled sheepishly.

_Please. _

He gave Ginny a quick kiss.

_You've just broke me. _

Everyone applauded apart from Hermione who sat looking at the couple. She could feel the tears clouding her vision, but she couldn't let anyone know her secret. She took her bag and stood up from her chair, unnoticed and invisible by everyone.

She could feel his penetrating gaze on her as she left the room, but she couldn't look back. Not now.

* * *

**A/N:** Not the best I have ever written, but it's different never the less. Bit of an "Oh, shit!" moment. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and, in advance if you do, thanks for taking more time to review it. Merci beaucoup!


	3. Confrontation and Distraction

**A/N: **Hi guys. Now, it's been over two years since I have wrote anything and I know there was a couple of you really angry at me for stopping, but I have now decided to carry on with this idea. It's been a rough couple of years, but writing was, and has always been, my escape and I hadn't realised just how much I had missed this. I wrote this in an hour, that's how stifled my creativity has been! Please leave me a little review, I'm a little rusty I know.

******Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Awkward Kisses and Bittersweet Stolen Moments**

_Chapter Three - Confrontation and Distraction_

"I think it's time we had that face to face conversation because this has got way out of hand."

Hermione let her mobile phone drop from her hand onto the cool granite work top of her kitchen. She rested her brow against her carefully manicured hand and let out a deep sigh. She rubbed her temples. All this confusion and anger had caused a permanent, irremovable dull ache behind her eyes.

She rattled around in the cupboard above the stove and found a jar of Wolfsbane. Clumsily removing the lid, she took out one singular leaf and dropped it the glass of water she'd been drinking for hours in a self indulgent attempt to sober up. The pink leaf spun weightlessly around the short glass goblet and dissolved leaving a slight pink tinge to the water. She brought the cold glass to her rouged lips and let the remainder of the luke warm liquid seep down her parched throat in one gulp. She dropped the glass to the granite with the same force she dropped her mobile.

The screen lit up and she grabbed it furiously, punching in her security code once wrongly, and twice correctly. It was him again.

"All we've done is argue for the past two weeks. I've tried giving you space, I've tried giving you time, I've tried apologising but nothing is making it better. I've got so many questions, so many things to say to you and you cutting me out of your life is just ignoring the problem at hand. You couldn't expect just to cut me out of your life and for it to have no repercussions."

She stared blankly at the empty words on the screen. A loud crack filled the empty kitchen, and before Hermione could turn round and see what had happened, she felt a familiar pair of strong, dark haired arms brush their fingers across her sides and meet around her middle. She felt the soft kisses of his lips trail down her neck and she blinked slowly in ecstasy. She lulled her neck into his inviting touch and just lay there, letting his lust take over - her love being the victim.

"Because," a soft, masculine voice growled sexily in her ear, in between kisses, "I do miss you so."

She turned slowly, his presence seemed to intoxicate her even more, and her bleary eyed gaze met his. He smiled, that off balanced goofy smile that she had fell in love with, "Oh Harry," she breathed.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

"Hi."

She looked at him straight after the words had dropped from his lips. It took her a couple of seconds to make eye contact with him but when she did she saw the rage she had bottled up and all the words she had wanted to say to him disappear immediately. Her eyes become soft and she took a long, slow intake of breath, "Hey you."

She smiled. All the anger and the arguing they had done wasn't going to carry on tonight.

"Why…" she stopped, broke her gaze and licked her lips, "Why as soon as I see you do I forget everything that I had planned to say to you? Why can't I be horrible to your face?"

He shrugged out of his coat and put it on the work surface next to her mobile, "I don't know.

She reinstated that eye contact again, "Why do I just want to make stupid jokes and be your friend? Because that's not right is it?"

He shrugged again, "I really don't know."

She smiled and laughed under her hitched, nervous breath, "So why did you want to meet?"

Those nervous butterflies appeared in the pit of his stomach and once more she found it hard to say what he had been trying to say for weeks, "Because… because, um, I have… I still have so much more to say to you. I have so many questions to ask you."

"Like what?" She looked at him, hard faced and stern. She really was adamant that she was going to put herself first, start to protect her pride, her sanity and her very, very broken heart.

"Like what," she reiterated.

"Um, loads."

"Like what?" she repeated. She wasn't going to let him mess her around anymore.

"I don't know," he mumbled. He swayed a little from side to side, and winked at her with his cheeky glint in his eye ever apparent. She sighed. He was drunk again.

Nevertheless, his musky scent, his beautiful eyes, his newly acquired stubble - they all threw her off guard. She couldn't concentrate. She couldn't even remember her own name.

"It's…" she started to explain, "It's just… I don't understand what I did that night to make you leave me. To run away from me and the life you could have had with me…"

There was no holding back now, she couldn't just give him a half-arsed answer anymore. No matter how much of a prick he was, no matter how much of a complete and utter dickhead he had been, he deserved her honesty. She closed her eyes, and reopened them slowly, focussing on his as he fumbled with the bottom of his navy shirt, "You could have been with me forever you know. I would have put up with you," she laughed and she saw him giggle under his staggered breathing.

He continued to avoid her gaze, and now turned his attention to the floor, still playing with the hem of his clothing. She took a step closer to him, "I wouldn't have suppressed you and your ever changing personality. I wouldn't force you into wearing fashionable clothing. I wouldn't have made you meet every little part of my ginger sprouting, ever expanding family. I wouldn't make you do an exclusive article in the Quibbler with an insight into our life. I wouldn't have forced you into having a huge family and friends and world spectacular to make sure every little fucker knew we were getting married. I would have been content with just you…" she stopped herself, realising that now she had started crying.

"I would have been…" she paused and took a moment to compose herself.

She took another step forward towards him. And another. And another until she was right in front of him. She outstretched a curved finger and put it under his chin. Tilting his head to meet hers, she saw something she never thought she would ever see. She saw him. She saw him for the first time in a long time. No pretences, no fakery, no nothing. Just Harry. She saw his remorse for dragging her through all of this. He found her hand and she found herself getting lost in his eyes… the world going a little bit blurry… herself being dragged into his memories.

* * *

She stood in the living room of the house that Harry and Ginny shared. The world was dark outside, and the moon shone brightly against the floating candle street lights of Godric's Hollow. It was beautiful, Hermione admitted to herself, Harry clearly fell in love with the house for the beauty of its setting. The bare, cream walls of the interior stood uniformly around her and blocked her in this lifeless cage, just like Harry was. Trapped metaphorically again in a cupboard under Ginny's stairs.

("Why would we want to paint the walls white Ginny?" Harry sighed as he dragged out the pot of paint from the bag she'd just returned with.

"Because, Harry, it looks nice," she said sternly, "And it's magnolia, not white.")

Hermione sighed and started to look around the room. She stepped carefully over to the fireplace in front of her, her shoes getting lost in the plush, cream carpet below her feet. On the fireplace stood three photo frames, all in a row, all neatly arranged and spaced out perfectly. The middle one, naturally was a larger and more ornate frame than the rest with a picture of the happy couple from when they went away on holiday to the Caribbean. Hermione shook her head, "He hates the heat," she said to herself.

The front door to the house unlocked behind her and Ginny stormed in, slamming the door behind her. Two seconds later, Harry followed, himself in a similar rage. Ginny threw her bag, keys and coat down on the sofa with a sigh before turning on her very high heels to face the raven haired man behind her. She stared at him for a couple of seconds, as if she was waiting for him to say something. In true Harry style, he stayed perfectly silent.

"So?" she demanded, "That's it? You're just going to say nothing?"

Harry opened his mouth as if to speak but then stopped himself.

"Exactly," she spat, "You can't even find an excuse this time."

Harry stood his ground this time, "Ginny, I'm sick of this. I didn't even do anything wrong."

"Really?" she asked, through purse lips as she folded her arms together, "Really Harry? Because that waitress seemed to think she was coming home with you…"

"Oh for fuck's sake Ginny. Will you get off your fucking high horse? I didn't want to fuck that fucking waitress!" he screamed.

Ginny looked at him, devoid and empty of word, "Well," she tittered, "I don't think I quite deserved that."

He ran a claw through his messy, jet black hair, "Oh don't come the innocent Ginevra, I've quite had enough of you playing the victim."

He took off his cloak and hung it on the end of the painted banister, its long black material standing out furiously against the white (magnolia) wood. He could feel her penetrating gaze on him. He turned and saw her standing there; her arms still folded and tapping her foot.

"Don't get all impatient with me," he snapped.

Ginny knew that she was close to pushing him to the edge. It was, after all, very rare for him to lose him temper. He'd started to fumble in the pocket of his cloak. She swallowed and realised she had to just say what she had been meaning to say for weeks, "Well who is it then?"

Harry stopped, keeping his back to her, "What?"

"You know," he could hear the quiver in her voice as she spoke, "Who is it that you are fucking then?"

Harry sighed, took a moment and started to look for it again, "I'm not fucking anyone."

"Liar," she said coldly.

He agitatedly threw the black, velvet from his clasp and faced her. He inhaled slowly, suppressing that bubbling anger that was so eager to just explode, "I. Am. Not. Cheating. On. You. Is that clear?"

She didn't reply, just kept her gaze stern and determined. He turned away from her and started to once again, search in the deep left pocket of his cloak, "Fuck's sake," he muttered under his breath.

"Accio," Ginny said under her breath, "Looking for these?" she added as she produced a pair of black, french knickers from under the sofa.

Hermione gasped. They were hers.

"Because you won't find them in there Harry," said Ginny, her voice growing stronger.

Harry stood up, rolled back his shoulders before spinning slowly around and seeing them, "They're not…"

"Cut your shit Harry because I've had enough," Ginny said, cutting him off.

Hermione stood there, blind to them in their crossfire. She didn't know what to do.

"It's a week, you know, until our rehearsal dinner, and you are going to do everything I say from now until we are married; and then on until we perish, understood? You won't ruin this for me now. I am so close to everything I ever wanted and you won't stop this. You can't stop this."

Harry gulped and backed off up the stairs. He'd admitted defeat, "Okay."

He trudged slowly up the stairs, his polished black shoes making a slight mark on the carpet. He got to the top of the stairs, feeling weak and trapped.

"So," Ginny shouted up the stairs, her voice quivering, "Do you love her?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione didn't hear what he said.

* * *

Hermione found herself being drawn from this reality and being dragged back into hers. That familiar blur in her head reappeared and soon she was standing back in front of Harry in her kitchen. He let go, furiously of her hands, mumbling something about telling her too much as he grabbed his coat and made for the nearest empty space.

"No Harry, don't go," Hermione rushed, "Harry please."

He stopped, still swaying, "What?"

Her heart started to beat furiously in her chest. Her palms started to sweat and she could feel that dry lump reappearing in her throat, "Do you…" she couldn't hear herself speak for the dull, pounding of her own heart in her ears, "Do you l…"

That loud crack filled her hollow kitchen and left her alone once more. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was silent tears.

* * *

**A/N: **A little shorter than I would have wanted but I needed to leave some action for the next chapter which I have actually already written! I hope you are enjoying this. Let me know if you are, if you are not, if you have any suggestions! Even take a little look at my other complete fix The Real Potter if you have a moment for a biscuit and a cup of tea. Ciao ciao.


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